


The Hot Science of Supremacy

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: (not THAT sticky though?), M/M, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, stop reading this already im sick of seeing new kudos on this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4420409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two serious scientists pretend that they're doing serious science together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hot Science of Supremacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sonntam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonntam/gifts).



> contains hints of spoilers to #38

"Brainstorm duty".

That was how crewmates unofficially called it when it was their turn to supervise Brainstorm's work in his workshop so he wouldn't create a new time machine. It occurred to Perceptor many times that if Brainstorm actually wanted to re-create his masterpiece, he would be able to do it without anyone noticing. Some days, the engineer told him in nonchalant manner that he'd probably start with crafting a teleporter and wishing good luck in finding him later.

Perceptor had no reason not to believe him.

On the other hand, Perceptor had no reason to inform the captains that Brainstorm mostly fooled around in his workshop after the trial, so he continued spending days there whenever the duty called.

He wasn't sure if it was unfortunate or not that he had to deal with Brainstorm, well. Fooling around.

"For your information, nano weapons that shoot smaller nano weapons that also shoot even smaller nano weapons is not a project I wish to associate my name with."

"Ah, you missed the point completely. It was just an example! Who even needs nano weapons, it's not like you can actually do much with them."

"Uh-huh."

Brainstorm swiveled around in chair. Perceptor sighed deeply.

"Then what is actually on your mind?" Perceptor tried again.

The jet stopped spinning and laid back, looking at the fellow scientist.

"Nothing. Just wanted to make sure these," he wriggled his fingers, "still can do something."

"And you decided to practice in nano engineering," Perceptor raised his optic ridge skeptically.

Brainstorm let out a small laugh.

"I like it when there is a challenge to a task. You know," he laughed again. "It's a habit."

Perceptor frowned.

There was a subtle change in his perception of Brainstorm's usual flow of seemingly non-filtered joking now. It was always hard to tell how serious the engineer was about any issue he spoke of, but whenever there was a slightest hint about his previous project or his restrictions in work, the sarcastic remarks about himself became prominently cruel. It never failed to catch Perceptor off guard. He always had no idea how to answer.

"Alright," Perceptor cleared his vox coder from static awkwardly after a pause. "As long as it's not terribly weaponized, I think it might be useful to do a little nano engineering."

"Great," Brainstorm answered somewhat flatly. "I'll get the raws," he got up and scooted to the supply storage. The room seemed half-empty. Perceptor had personally supervised that all potentially dangerous tools and materials were cleared from Brainstorm's workshop.

Before Perceptor could ask what Brainstorm was actually planning to do, the jet continued while searching for materails:

"I thought we could use some kinetic field generators," he inspected some black box and discarded it, throwing it back carelessly. Perceptor winced at that. "You know, with Trailcutter gone, it's..." Brainstorm suddenly fell silent. He scratched his mask in thought. "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," he quietly finished, staring at the shelves of the storage.

Perceptor stepped a bit closer. He wasn't used to Brainstorm being quiet. He didn't notice when he got used to Bainstorm not being quiet and upset.

"It is a good idea," Perceptor finally said. "The ship's shielding is adequate, but having such strong back-up generators is useful. The Lost Light had more hull breaches than considered acceptable in the first hour of this quest," he joked dryly.

To his surprise, Brainstorm laughed.

"You're right," he said simply. "Let's get to work then," he handed Perceptor a supply box, taking another one from some far shelf and closing the storage room.

Perceptor felt like he missed some crucial information about their potentially useful mini-project. He reviewed his databases on everything related briefly and found nothing. Kinetic barriers, despite requiring huge amounts of energy to work on large feilds and extended amounts of time, were quite simple to build. Microscopic scales were not really a problem, on the contrary, they seemed to be the perfect solution to the energy consuming issue.

He knew what was wrong just when Brainstorm put his box on one of circuit slabs and stopped, drumming fingers on its surface in annoyance.

How were they going to build anything like when almost all needed equipment was confiscated from Brainstorm's lab, under Perceptor's own supervision?

"Right. No biggie! Everyone can build a nano generator with electronic microscope and dispensing chamber. It wouldn't be a challenge otherwise, huh?" Brainstorm shared the similar thought, as it seemed.

In awkward silence, Perceptor looked back at the door to the supply room. He decided to put the material box he was trusted with on the slab next to Brainstorm's.

Brainstorm didn't raise his optics on him when Perceptor stood next to him. He stared at his hands, gripping the slab edge hard. It was never easy to read his expressions because of the mask, but he seemed suddenly morose and tired, usually bright yellow shine of his optics looking dull and dim now.

Perceptor couldn't bring himself to ask about what they would work on then or that they could move to his laboratory. Would he be glad to be forced to work under such circumstances, when everything around him reminded about that he was not allowed to do things he loved working at?

"My altmode can provide sufficient magnification and basic microscopic tools," Perceptor said before he could think about his words.

Brainstorm snapped out of his sulking.

"Since when?" He asked suspiciously.

"Since the times when nanotechnologies evolved enough to be a basic physics discipline. I like being self-sufficient," Perceptor thought he probably shouldn't be surprised that Brainstorm knew it wasn't an inborn feature.

"And you will let me work with that?" Brainstorm's optics widened in disbelief.

"It's your project," Perceptor let himself a little smile and transformed.

In silence, Brainstorm circled around him. Perceptor suddenly felt like he was intensely studied. Probably under a microscope.

"Awesome," Brainstorm said with audible delight. He stood behind him to look into the scope. "You're perfect for this." Perceptor felt Brainstorm's fingers on his lens tube sliding carefully down to the sliders. He thought he imagined that the fingers were slightly shaking. "What about these tools you told about earlier?"

Not knowing how to react to poorly hidden (if hidden at all) excitement in Brainstorm's voice, Perceptor obediently slid down the stage with the diaphragm underneath that made up his breastplate. Brainstorm looked at the revealed various instruments stored in chest compartment intensely.

"You can manipulate them with the sliders on the left handle," Perceptor said awkwardly to fill the silence. "I can do the adjustments myself, but since you're the one operating, it's better if you do it." Before he could finish his sentence, he felt the quick fingers on both handles, playing with sliders and knobs. With the skill of a natural genius, Brainstorm found the switch between the optic and electronic mode and connected needed instruments to the manipulator controls.

"Is there anything else I should know about?" Brainstorm asked, blindly grabbing the boxes from the circuit slab. It was surprising he didn't forget about them at this point.

"Ah, yes," Perceptor said. Brainstorm was setting up the dispenser chamber on the stage, and it was slightly unnerving that he was doing it without taking his hands off Perceptor's scope or arm or whatever part of his altmode was closer at the moment. "There is a display."

"There is a display," Brainstorm's audio output vibrated with joy. One of the plates on the lens tube opened up, and indeed, there was a display. Perceptor usually used it when he needed to quickly inspect something without transforming, but it could also run simulations and show the results in numbers, not just images his lenses provided. "Amazing," the engineer breathed and got to work.

Perceptor was getting nauseatingly distracted with every second. Brainstorm's hands were precise and surgical with his sliders and controls, and the scientist saw himself Brainstorm's work on getting a bunch of random atoms together into a working machine. It was fast, professional, almost mundane despite its actual complexity. And yet, it also seemed weirdly inappropriate. Every so often Brainstorm's fingers left an unnecessary stroke on Perceptor' corpus, but that seemed to be just a part of the problem.

The delicate work of Brainstorm's fingers, on the sliders or not, the heat of his frame behind the corpus of the microscope, his appreciative remarks, it all seemed almost intimate. Perceptor tried his best to brush away this feeling. For Primus' sake, it wasn't the first time he lent his unique altmode abilities to his colleagues.

And none of these colleagues seemed to admire him so much as Brainstorm.

Perceptor had yet to decide what he could think of that.

"Okay, this is the first batch," Brainstorm said, extracting the freshly assembled generators planted on the thin quartz plate from the dispenser chamber. His voice was harsh with static.

This time, Perceptor noticed, his hands were definitely shaking when he stroked the lens tube again.

"Do you have materials for the second batch?" He asked. Was he sure he wanted Brainstorm to work on him again?

"Uh. Yes. I think I have," Brainstorm said.

Perceptor decided that he actually didn't mind this kind of collaboration. It was... surprisingly pleasant.

"Actually, nevermind," Brainstorm suddenly said. "I need to go. Sorry," he said quickly and almost ran to the exit.

Baffled by this sudden turn of events, Perceptor waited for several minutes, hoping that Brainstorm would get back, with his usual lack of seriousness, saying it was a joke. When he didn't, Perceptor transformed and leaned onto the circuit slab, eyeing the results of their project.

He sighed deeply. What in the universe was he going to do now?

 

* * *

 

Brainstorm looked around the lab curiously.

"So, what did you need?" He asked Perceptor who was looking at his datapad and cringing so hard that Brainstorm tried to calculate at what point his optic lens would fall off his face.

Perceptor looked again at the datapad with orders and sighed.

"One of our captains decided that his altmode was less than sufficient. By "less than sufficient" I mean, quote, "not so cool anymore", unquote," Perceptor tried not to cringe this time.

"Rodimus wants an altmode change again?" Brainstorm asked. Was that his quantum box sitting peacefully in Perceptor's lab? He eyed the scientist suspiciously and then looked at the equipment again. That was definitely his gear. "Doesn't he do it at least once in a month and then forgets he had an altmode envy case two hours later?"

Perceptor followed Brainstorm's gaze and his expression became sheepish as he realized what the engineer was looking at.

"Yes, but this time he managed to pass this as an official order to Ultra Magnus who then delegated this order to me as the Chief Scientist of the ship. It says," Perceptor looked at the datapad once more and read it aloud, "my task is to determine the coolest, the raddest altmode that would also work sweetly with Rodimus' color scheme." Perceptor put two fingers at his nose bridge.

Brainstorm laughed.

"Do you think Ultra Magnus entertains himself like this?" He asked when his laughing ceased.

Perceptor shrugged: he thought that the way other crewmates dealt with some of their captain's orders was none of his business.

Except that now it was, as he was obligated to fill an official report and calculate "coolness" and "radness" of his crewmates’ altmodes. He was sure no one would even read it, but he had a duty to fulfill, no matter how ridiculous it was.

"A-a-and, what am I here for?" Brainstorm asked again. "Unless you think I'm better fit to do such a task, I see no reason for me to be involved."

Yes, about that.

"This time, Rodimus wants - or wanted, if the timestamps on the order are correct, - an aerial altmode," Perceptor sighed. "I am in an uncomfortable position, Brainstorm, but may I examine your altmode for this," he looked at his datapad again sourly, "joke of a report?"

Brainstorm was silent for some time, mischievous yellow optics not giving away any reaction.

"But why me?" He asked curiously.

"There are not many flyers abroad, Brainstorm. And I can't personally imagine coming to Cyclonus with such a suggestion," Perceptor answered honestly.

Brainstorm cocked his head to the side.

"Please," Perceptor asked. "I really need to get this off my back."

"If you describe my altmode in these very terms, then I'm game. Nothing invasive! I can't stand the needles."

"Deal," Perceptor genuinely smiled.

Perceptor prayed to whatever deity their ship might be passing right now, glad that it was easier than he imagined. He prepared himself that dealing with Brainstorm would give him a headache at least, but the engineer was not only surprisingly cooperative, but also unexpectedly not-annoying. Unlike anything that involved the ship's captains and their infightings.

"So," Perceptor started. "Could you please lay on this slab and transform then?"

Brainstorm froze in his tracks, realizing that the examination apparently was going to take place right now. It also meant Perceptor's full concentration on him.

"I-" Brainstorm started, but didn't know what to say. "Okay," he staggered to the mentioned slab and sat on it. Perceptor was looking at him patiently, making him even more nervous.

"Make yourself comfortable," Perceptor tried to lighten suddenly awkward mood, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wasn't sure they had the intended effect. Brainstorm glared at him with burning light in optics. He moved himself closer to the center of the circuit slab and transformed, almost smacking Perceptor with one of his wings in the process.

"How are you gonna do this examination, by the way?" Brainstorm asked.

Perceptor lit up the lamp above the slab.

"I'll measure your width, length, et cetera, aerodynamics in general, the potential strain on the spark for the flight," he said, setting the program to activate a simple camera on his optic lens. "I'll also have to make a conclusion on how "cool" that altmode would look in red and golden color scheme."

Brainstorm laughed nervously.

"Let me answer last question right now: horrible," he said, wincing internally at the image of him sharing colors with Rodimus.

Perceptor looked at the light frame of the jet in harsh light of the bright lamp.

"Agreed. Your current paintjob fits better."

He set the camera to take the shots each five seconds, planning to use the pictures to re-create the jet in 3D and run some additional tests. He'd have to take a lot of shots from various angles, but he didn't plan for the whole procedure to take too much time.

The scientist lowered his head down to Brainstorm's cockpit to set his line of sight straight from the center of the jet's frame to his nose.

"Tell me, are these canons functional?" He asked out of curiosity, satisfied with test shots and moving to the canons in question.

"Uh, depends on what you call "functional"," Brainstorm supplied. Perceptor waited for continuation. "I've modified the charges just to paralyze long ago."

Perceptor touched one of the weapons, tracing his finger to the nose mindlessly. He still wasn't sure what to make of the revelation that Brainstorm has never killed anyone with his own hands. And now he learned that he even de-weaponized his altmode. While he still had no idea what to think about it, he knew that he felt a certain admiration for Brainstorm now.

"Interesting," he said, continuing his close examination. He switched his attention to the carcass. "Light alloys, no armor?" The sides of Brainstorm's frame were beautifully aerodynamic, efficient and elegant.

"Y-yes."

Quickly, Perceptor traced the outline of each plate. Then he went through each again, not satisfied with his rushed examination. He never saw this kind of a fighter jet this close before. As his processor calculated some preliminary test results, he found out that Brainstorm's design had many clever solutions to one big problem of aerodynamics: the eternal "how to make a dense piece of metal not drop dead in the midair".

When he moved to the thrusters and wings, he was already very satisfied with what he discovered.

However, the unusual triple wing system raised several questions immediately.

"Your wings have unusual configuration," he moved to the tail, examining each wing and their position closely. He tried to tweak them and discovered that they quite freely moved higher or lower. "Are there any benefits from it?"

"Stability," Brainstorm answered with strangled voice. Perceptor nodded, not noticing how the chatty engineer suddenly reduced his replies to single words. Fascinated, Perceptor put his palm under one wing, measuring its width and weight. They seemed to be made of the heavier alloy than the corpus plates, and that couldn't have not created a certain disbalance in Brainstorm's weight. He made a note that it's possible that the flight for jets of that design had some difficulties that absolutely should have been calculated before acquiring a similar altmode.

"This is so clever," he said out loud, "but Rodimus would probably just crash on his first flight."

Brainstorm didn't answer. Perceptor didn't notice it as well, still measuring the jet's proportions. The plates got warmer under his hands and now were vibrating slightly. The scientist thought that Brainstorm's flight should be a wonderful thing to watch, regretting that their spaceship couldn't provide anything riskier than a flight simulator.

At some point, Perceptor realized that Brainstorm's plated grew not just warm - they became uncomfortably hot under his palm.

He placed his hand under Brainstorm's cockpit, wondering what could be wrong, and asked, unsure:

"Brainstorm? Is everything alright?"

Brainstorm's answer was a burst of static, but before Perceptor could get worried even more, the jet transformed back into his bipedal mode.

As Brainstorm sprawled on the slab, Perceptor heard how his cooling fans clicked in, starting spinning with a roar. A wave of hot air blew off the jet's body.

"Air intakes work only in flight," Brainstorm managed to say, breathing heavily through his mask.

Perceptor vaguely remembered this detail about flyers. Upon transformation, some of jets' cooling fans retracted and offlined, saving the energy on their work as the flight provided air flow into the engines anyway.

It didn't mean that grounded jets overheated immediately, Perceptor thought. Brainstorm's body shook, making the wings rattle against the slab. He pressed his knees together, and Perceptor belatedly remembered that his hand was still resting on his plates.

It started making sense.

"Please, Perceptor, is there any coolant in your lab?" The jet panted. "I'm ready to drown myself in liquid nitrogen right now."

Perceptor rushed to the air conditioning system and set the temperature as low as the safety protocols allowed. He turned back to the slab to see Brainstorm taking off his mask and breathing out with open mouth loudly. The slits on the mask probably weren't adequate enough to provide fresh air.

The temperature was dropping rapidly, and soon the puffs of hot air leaving Brainstorm's frame became clearly visible. Tremors surged through him, and he seemed to force his legs together all the time. At some point he just pressed both hands against his interface panel with a whimper.

"If you want to continue, you're welcome to do it as it is. I'm not transforming back," Brainstorm said, laying back on the slab. It took some time for Perceptor to process his words as he was busy studying the way Brainstorm's lips moved, so unusually expressive. As the words reached his brain module, though, Perceptor wondered if this proposition meant he could study this mouth as closely as his altmode.

He missed the moment when his fingers touched Brainstorm's helm. The engineer's optics burned brightly, and it could be unnerving if Perceptor wasn't lost in admiration by now. He lowered his head to Brainstorm's. His sensors informed him that the temperature was very close to the point when the water froze, but he barely felt it as Brainstorm's lips almost burned his. The kiss was hot and modest.

"Do you allow?" Perceptor whispered, his lip plates brushing against Brainstorm's.

He felt hands on the sides of his helm tugging him even lower.

"Yeah," Brainstorm breathed, closing what little distance was still between them. The rush of heated air from the intakes on his head washed over Perceptor's face.

Brainstorm kissed shyly, lips tightly sealed, and it made Perceptor wonder how many mechs ever kissed him, considering that so few knew he had a face under his mask. Thrilled, Perceptor parted his lips to lick the engineer's mouth. Brainstorm made a small noise, and another tremor ran through his frame. He licked again, sliding his tongue between Brainstorm's lips and savoring his taste - clean, metallic and so tender.

Brainstorm gave in after one more lick, moaning into Perceptor's mouth and letting his tongue slide inside. He touched the jet's hands that were stroking his face, brushing the forearms up to the elbows, and then placed them on his waist. Much like his altmode, Brainstorm's body was pleasantly irresistible, making Perceptor want to touch him everywhere at once.

For a second, Perceptor was worried something went wrong as Brainstorm suddenly whimpered and shook, throwing his head back and breaking the kiss. The worry was replaced with excitement as he noticed that Brainstorm's interface equipment opened up.

The look in Brainstorm's optics became almost pleading as he tugged Perceptor closer to him by shoulders, usually agile fingers scratching his plates uselessly. Perceptor found it endearing as Brainstorm still tried to close his knees, and he kissed so rarely seen lips again, sliding his hands down to the engineer's hips and moving him to the edge of the slab.

Brainstorm readily sat up, pressing their frames together, and kissed Perceptor's neck lining.

"Please, Percy, I can't-" He whispered between the kisses, and the scientist thought that his hot breath could melt his plates. "Please, touch me," Brainstorm whimpered and hid his face on Perceptor's shoulder.

Perceptor took place between Brainstorm's legs, kissing his helm and stroking the plates of his thighs. Brainstorm breathed into his shoulder heavily, apparently letting the scientist do as he pleased. He brought his hand up to cup Brainstorm's face, making him look up at him.

He nipped his lower lip and pressed their forehelms together, looking into bright yellow optics. Brainstorm's gaze was unfocused, his expression seeming lost because of that.

"Is everything good?" Perceptor asked. Primus, how much he wanted to pin Brainstorm down right now and never leave.

Brainstorm reluctantly nodded. He traced trembling fingers down Perceptor's chestplate to his abdominal plates. The tender touch was unexpected, but amazingly pleasant nonetheless, and the scientist felt his frame shudder under Brainstorm's careful hands. They both looked how Brainstorm's hands stroked and caressed his waist and wires, and as they reached his thighs, Perceptor moaned and rocked his hips forward, reflexively opening his interface panels.

He heard a hitch in Brainstorm's breath. He looked down between them with expression Perceptor could describe only as awe. When Brainstorm brushed his fingers over his equipment, adding fuel to his arousal as the gentle fingertips teased his rising spike lightly, it was Perceptor's turn to whimper.

Pleased to hear Perceptor's moans, Brainstorm smiled and gave his spike a full stroke, rubbing his thumb on the tip, suddenly forgetting about his charge scorching his circuits. He was reminded about it immediately, though, as Perceptor placed his hand on his inner thigh and slid his fingers to his valve rim and making him squirm on the slab.

Perceptor wished he could indulge himself and give Brainstorm all thorough examination he deserved, but at this point he was almost painfully aroused. Feeling his warm hands on his shoulders again, dragging him closer, Perceptor guided his spike to stroke against Brainstorm's interface array. Brainstorm's plates rattled against his as he felt the tip of Perceptor's spike brush on the valve entrance, stimulating outer sensory nodes.

Brainstorm locked his optics on the obscene action between them. He held on Perceptor's shoulders as if his life depended on it and watched him grinding the underside of his spike on the slick rim. Each thrust made him ache inside, and he was ready to beg.

Fortunately for him, Perceptor hadn't much patience himself at this point. One of thrusts suddenly gave Brainstorm what he wanted; he felt the head of Perceptor's spike stretching his valve, drawing a blissful moan out of him.

Perceptor kissed him blindly, almost missing his mouth. Brainstorm felt incredible. His valve walls were tight around his spike, pulsing with heat and small contractions that followed the tremors running through the jet's frame. He pushed in deeper, delighting in Brainstorm's touches and squeals as his hands dragged Perceptor closer.

It probably could be nice to make love slow, but with the way Brainstorm's hands were everywhere on his body, carresing every plate and seam, the way he locked him between thighs and squeezed his spike hard and sweet, it was impossible to hold back and not thrust into him faster. Brainstorm's needy touches were almost distracting, making Perceptor forget that he had the jet at his whim, too, and could reach everywhere he wanted.

Perceptor took Brainstorm's hands in his, intertwining their fingers together, and pressed their frames together, urging Brainstorm lay back on the slab and pining his hands above his head. As the scientist tasted his surprised moans, licking into his mouth, Brainstorm arched his back, still greedy for contact. Perceptor indulged him a little, moving his mouth lower to lick his neck cables and chest plates, tearing a distored sound out of his vox coder as Brainstorm's body convulsed in a spasm below him.

"Perceptor, I-" Brainstorm's voice was stunningly harsh with static, and Perceptor didn't give him a chance to finish what he tried to say. He fastened his rhythm, leaving black scratches on Brainstorm's thighs, and his vox coder refused to form words, releasing hissing static noise instead.

Brainstorm was too lost to care. Each thrust of Perceptor's spike inside him left sharp, bright pleasant feeling that made him squirm on the slab, still trying to free his hands and touch the frame above him. They looked into each other's optics, as if they both needed confirmation that it was them indeed fucking the sparks out of each other. Perceptor's blue optics shone bright, his face somehow relaxed and concentrated at the same time, and Brainstorm gave into the sensations flooding his systems.

Yellow light of Brainstorm's optics flickered, his gaze unfocusing as he bit his lower lip to hold back a moan. Perceptor watched in awe how the jet below him whimpered, squeezing his hands tight, and tried to push his hips higher. His valve spasmed hotly in a series of powerful contractions, and Perceptor realized that Brainstorm was overloading. He let one of Brainstorm's hands to grab his hips, focused on keeping the rhythm through his climax, and kissed him, persuading to stop biting his lip and give in.

With Perceptor's mouth catching his scream, one hand still holding his above his head and the scientist's attentive optics observing his face, Brainstorm overloaded, his charge coming off in waves as Perceptor fucked him through it. The tremors surging through his frame, making his winds rattle against the slab, calmed down slowly, the pleasant afterglow still leaving him breathless. He embraced Perceptor with one hand and crossed his legs, locking him between his thighs, happy to have him to close and give him all pleasure he could.

Brainstorm kissed him everywhere he could reach, whispering praises between kisses, his frame still impossibly hot under his, and it drove Perceptor mad, making him push himself deeper into his slick and tender valve. He wasn't that bothered and close to overloading for now, but apparently Brainstorm had some free processing power now to make him come faster. He wasn't shy with his tongue anymore, giving Perceptor long, sensual kisses while his free hand brushed his sides and back, encouraging him to frag him harder, not minding that he overloaded just recently.

As Perceptor picked up a faster rhythm, slightly rougher, a bit desperate, he heard through a wall of noise of his fans how Brainstorm's moans became louder once again. It would surprise Perceptor, perhaps, if he had time or power to stop and think, but stopping was a ridiculous, laughable concept right now. His perception narrowed down to the feeling of tight valve walls around his spike, hot air and tongue that burned his lips and face, and dimmed yellow light of Brainstorm's optics. When he caught the sight Brainstorm's lips curving in a gentle smile, it was all Perceptor needed to lose himself. He kissed that smile, his charge releasing into Brainstorm's body blissfully.

Carefully, Perceptor pulled out his spike of the valve with a groan, and leaned onto Brainstorm tiredly, nuzzling his neck and touching his sides. Relishing in the afterglow of his overload, he processed a bit slower than usual that Brainstorm was still grinding himself against him, mewling quietly.

"You're up for another round?" Perceptor asked, voice harsh and uneven. Brainstorm's breath hitched and he stilled in place.

Perceptor lifted his head from his neck to look at Brainstorm, who was staring at him wordlessly. He looked a bit... embarrassed, perhaps? The scientist didn't understand why, but instead of asking he just leaned in to kiss Brainstorm again and move his hands up and down his body, making sure he would understand the hint. He caught a glimpse of surprise in his optics and he moved down, leaving a trail of kisses on Brainstorm's upper torso.

"W-what are you doing?" Brainstorm stuttered when Perceptor reached his interface equipment and licked the underside of his spike. The next lick made him moan and thrust his hips upward, forgetting that words existed at all.

Perceptor looked up at him with his mouth still on Brainstorm's spike. Brainstorm looked stunned, as if Perceptor did something unimaginable, and more importantly, he was very distracted at the moment, absolutely unable to pay attention to what Perceptor's hands did in the meantime. It made Perceptor want to smile, feeling uncharacteristically mischievous, and he put his hands on the inner sides of Brainstorm's thighs, still hot and a bit rough to touch because of scratches.

He kissed the head of his spike and moved down, and Brainstorm let out a needy squeal at the sudden loss of contact, optics pleading to give him more. He wasn't expecting to see Perceptor move even lower between his legs that he held spread apart firmly. Hot tongue swept over his valve rim, and Brainstorm tried to close his legs uselessly, whimpering softly.

"Percy..." Brainstorm whispered barely above the whirring of his fans. The scientist shot him a look at that nickname. He found it strangely endearing.

It was getting too distracting. Perceptor spread the valve rim with his thumbs, still holding Brainstorm's thighs apart, and kissed the slightly gaping opening, still slick and loose from his spike. Brainstorm shuddered to the tips of his wings when Perceptor moved his tongue out and licked into his valve past the slightly stretched rim, brushing over the lower sensory nodes. The tangy, yet cooling taste of his valve was heady and exciting.

Brainstorm's body was tense; he seemed torn between laying still and wriggling from all the attention from Perceptor. His fingers scratched the slab, too clumsy to cling onto something, and he desperately tried not to fall on his back flat because he couldn't just miss the sight of Perceptor eating him out, optics shining with shameless excitement. He was grateful when Perceptor's hands grabbed his and he pulled Brainstorm up, making him sit up before him. The jet spread his thighs wider to give Perceptor all the access he wanted and reflexively put his hand on his scope for support.

He didn't have anything to compare the feeling of Perceptor's tongue sliding against the walls of his valve or his lips nipping at the outer equipment. His tongue was soft, even softer than Brainstorm's own fingers when he pleased himself, and it didn't reach very deep inside him, but reached all the right places, stroking sensory nodes and folds intimately. Brainstorm shook when he pulled out his tongue to nip and suck the outer components of his equipment, making the jet before him gasp and cover his mouth with hand.

Every so often Perceptor looked up at Brainstorm. He enjoyed it maybe a little too much, almost moaning into the valve as he licked into it. He was so responsive, wonderfully open about his reactions to everything Perceptor did, and it was a pleasure to feel him squeezing his tongue or gripping his scope harder and twitching his thighs. Perceptor moved his tongue over all sweet spots he discovered relentlessly, making sure he read Brainstorm's body language right.

Brainstorm whimpered into his palm and felt the overload flooding his systems once again, the feeling of Perceptor's tongue intensifying as his valve contracted around it. His second overload wasn't that sharp and bright, but it made something warm spread inside, bringing deep and exhausting satisfaction and leaving him strutless as he blindly pressed Perceptor's face closer to his valve with his other hand.

Perceptor looked up at him as he came, his engines purring. He kissed Brainstorm's valve until the shaking hand on his helm stopped pressing his head closer and started pushing him away instead.

"Please, Percy, enough, please," Brainstorm whispered desperately as he tried to move Perceptor away from his interface equipment and close his legs. To his surprise, Perceptor chuckled and stood up before him.

Perceptor embraced him, holding him close. Brainstorm noticed his smile and, overwhelmed, reached to kiss him, tasting himself on the scientist's lips.

They held each other like that for a while, lost in time.

Perceptor pressed his forehelm to Brainstorm's to kiss him again and noticed in the corner of his vision number "812". Confused, he stopped, trying to figure out what that could possibly mean. He blinked, thinking it could be a glitch, and after the videofeed reset, the number changed to "813".

"Percy? Everything alright?" Brainstorm asked, sounding a little worried.

Perceptor looked at him and opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. Because how do you say to a person you just interfaced with that all that time there was a camera recording almost everything?

Brainstorm's expression changed to a frown. For the first time since Perceptor ever saw his face he noticed how vulnerable the engineer looked without his mask.

"What's wrong?" Brainstorm asked again.

"I, um," Perceptor started, utterly embarrassed. "It's nothing wrong, just..." He tried to pick his words carefully, but it seemed to make Brainstorm panic faster than anything. "At the beginning of examination - which was _meant_ to be for examination - I set my lens camera to take pictures every five seconds," as Perceptor finished the sentence, he noticed how Brainstorm's optics widened in realization. "I forgot about it completely."

Brainstorm stared at him wordlessly. The number in the corner of his vision changed to "816". Embarrassed even more, Perceptor rushed to turn it off and said:

"I will extract the data and destroy it immediately. I apologize."

He was already uploading everything on a data slug when Brainstorm giggled and said:

"Kinky."

He looked as embarrassed as Perceptor felt, but at the same time a small mischievous smile touched Brainstorm's lips. Perceptor stopped the upload and looked at him, confused more. Brainstorm giggled again.

"Is this gonna be in your report as well?" He asked.

"No! I wanted to model your altmode in 3D to run simulations, but-" Perceptor stopped. "Do you want this to be in report?" He asked Brainstorm suspiciously.

Brainstorm's giggling turned into a strained coughing.

"Primus, no. I know no one will read it, but. No. No!" He waved his hands to articulate his opinion on that matter stronger. Perceptor raised his optic ridge. Nothing ever was easy with Brainstorm, he thought. "I'd feel bad about deleting it without looking at what's there," he added, looking away. His fingers tapped on his plates nervously.

Brainstorm's subtle suggestion slowly made it into Perceptor's processors. The scientist's face plates heated a little, but at the same time he was incredibly relieved to see that Brainstorm wasn't mad at such violation of privacy.

"We can pick the best ones together," he said, playing along. Primus, he wasn't used to such conversations. "Or make more."

Brainstorm laughed, a little nervous, and reached his mouth again. They kissed, both feeling it was much more efficient way of communicating for them for now.

"You still have to use words "cool" and "rad" in that report," the engineer whispered against his lips.

"I'll try my best," Perceptor answered, mesmerized by the yellow light. "But I might slip a "lovely" or beautiful" as well."

"Do your worst," Brainstorm smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> written for sonntam's prompt
> 
> sorry for not betaing this, i'm kinda lazy
> 
> also the pun in the name of this text is so bad that it's actually good


End file.
